


Not Gone Yet

by HumanError



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Case Gone Wrong, Emotional John, Emotional Sherlock, Established Relationship, Frightened Sherlock, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injured John, M/M, Major Character Injury, Poor John, graphic depictions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:11:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumanError/pseuds/HumanError
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock!" No reply.</p><p>John screamed as another jolt of agony ripped through his body, sending his limbs into paroxysms of pain. Jesus fucking Christ.</p><p>What had happened? The doctor inhaled, pressing his eyes together in an attempt to block out the yells and whimpers from the people surrounding him. There was just too much noise for him to concentrate properly. Should that have been a problem? John shook his head slightly. Sherlock would be here soon...surely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Gone Yet

"Sherlock!" No reply.

John screamed as another jolt of agony ripped through his body, sending his limbs into paroxysms of pain.  _Jesus fucking Christ._

What had happened? The doctor inhaled, pressing his eyes together in an attempt to block out the yells and whimpers from the people surrounding him. There was just too much noise for him to concentrate properly. Should that have been a problem? John shook his head slightly. Sherlock would be here soon...surely.

Someone calling for John's name brought his attention back to the real world and he opened his eyes which he hadn't realised had remained closed. "John!" The voice was distinctly male although whoever's voice it was, he couldn't identify. "John, I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that?"

The doctor was unable to reply to the words being spoken to him, instead, opting to close his eyes again. "John, don't do that! Paramedics are going to be here soon. You better not fucking die on me here."  _Die? Was he dying?_

Suddenly, as if a reminder that what was happening was incredibly _real,_ John could feel pressure being applied to his abdominal area and a whole new wave of pain attacked him, momentarily rendering him unconscious. All too soon though, he was awake and there was a face above him, strong hands supporting his head. "John. Stay with me. Try and focus on me."

_Sherlock._

The detective turned his head, facing the man who was still applying pressure to his abdomen. "Lestrade?" he asked, voice laced with a mixture of panic and fear.  _Why was Sherlock scared? Sherlock's never scared._

 

"Abdominal trauma caused by a single gunshot wound. I'm almost certain that there's major internal bleeding. If he isn't in a hospital soon he is going to die, Sherlock."

Sherlock returned his attention back to the figure on the floor, positioning his hand again so that it was supporting John's head. Lestrade was still applying pressure to the wound.

Giving his gaze back to John, Sherlock lowered his head and placed a kiss to John's forehead, noting the clamminess of his skin. "Hold on for me John."

* * *

Sherlock and Lestrade followed the ambulance in the police car, sirens blaring as they made their way to the hospital. John was in an extremely bad condition when the paramedics arrived and he was only going to deteriorate if he didn't get into an operating theatre soon.

"Sherlock, I need you to calm down." Lestrade said, clenching his hands around the steering wheel of the car. They were coated in red, still sticky with John's blood. The consulting detective shook his head violently before turning to glare at the DI.

"How the hell do you expect me to calm down when John could be dead for all I know? I'm an idiot. Such a bloody idiot!"

"There was no way you could have stopped that maniac!" Lestrade hollered, swerving around the corner, not too far away from the hospital now.

"It was obvious. I'm a blind idiot!"

"Sherlock! Can you just shut up for one bloody minute?This was an unexpected mass murder-"

"But the signs were there!" Sherlock slammed his fist against the seat of the car, causing the detective inspector to flinch. They arrived at the hospital within minutes, both of them quickly jumping out of the car and running into the building.

"Well that doesn't matter now. You need to focus on John because he is going to need you, Sherlock."

* * *

John woke up God knows when, to the steady sound of beeping machines and someone pacing frantically up and down. "Sherlock would you please stop-" But before Lestrade could finish his sentence he was grabbing the detective by the sleeve of his coat and pushing him forward, motioning him to John.

"John." Sherlock's voice came out as more of a whisper, relief evident by the way he spoke John's name. 

Lestrade interjected, with an, 'I'll leave you two alone,' before standing up abruptly and leaving the ICU.

Blinking with weary, John's eyes adjusted to the brightness of the hospital room before turning his attention to Sherlock who was looking at him with a tremendous amount of concern.

"John?" Sherlock said, this time more of a question than an acknowledgement. He and Lestrade had been sitting outside of the ICU for a little over six hours before they were informed of John's condition.

John's lips twitched upwards slightly as he looked at Sherlock with admiration. "You alright?" He managed to say, voice croaky and dry. Out of all of the things John could say when he woke up after almost dying, he asked Sherlock if he was ok? The detective couldn't help but chuckle.

"You do realise that I wasn't the one who got shot, right?" John rolled his eyes, shifting himself in his bed slightly before letting out a small gasp of pain.

"Shit." Grimacing, John closed his eyes, resting his head back against his pillow. "What happened?" Without hesitation, Sherlock shifted the uncomfortable plastic hospital chair forward so that he was closer to John's side and took his hand in his own.

"Peter Rogers gave up. I suspected shortly before he committed his act that he knew we had discovered him. Take one deranged serial killer, acknowledge his mistake, and he will go on a mass murder spree. He gave himself up but not before giving us one final show."

John nodded, careful not to move his body too much with the action. "Casualties?"

"Thirty three. Eleven fatalities. I made a senseless mistake and now look where we are." Sherlock clenched his jaw tightly together, frustration building up inside of him.  _How did he let this happen?_

"Hey, Sherlock." John squeezed Sherlock's hand, a reassurance. "Don't blame yourself. Please." When the detective didn't reply, John squeezed  his hand again, using all of his energy as he did so.

"I'm sorry, John."

"Don't be."

"Forgive me." The younger man stared at the man on the bed, eyes pleading as he watched him. This was his fault, wasn't it? If he had just realised _sooner_ what was going to happen, John wouldn't have almost died. John wouldn't be in this hospital bed and he sure as hell wouldn't have had to face months of rehabilitation. When John didn't reply, Sherlock spoke up again. "You almost died, John, and that would have killed me if I knew I was the one responsible for your death. I can't lose you."

A tear trickled down John's cheek as he listened to Sherlock speak to him. He would have been lying if he had said that he wasn't afraid. He was bloody terrified. Standing up, Sherlock leaned over his blogger, gently pressing a kiss to his lips.  "I thought I'd lost you."

"You can't get rid of me that easily." John muttered, a little laugh escaping his lips, lightening the situation. Sherlock pulled away, using his thumb to wipe away the tear that was threatening to spill over again. "So, how bad?" John asked, exhaustion clearly overtaking him yet again. He was already disorientated and the pain was starting to become overwhelming.

Sherlock breathed in, noting the bandages that were wrapped around John's midriff. "Th bullet tore right through your abdomen and out through your back, missing your spinal cord by mere millimetres. Your body received major internal bleeding and damage and is possibly at risk of infection. I can assure you that Mycroft has the best doctors working on you though. You've been have hourly checks on your haemodynamic status among other things but I am not going to tire you with all of this information which is quite frankly a lot to take in."

"Right."

"Now, get some rest." John closed his eyes. He would be alright. It would take time but in the end, he would be fine. And that's all that mattered.

 

 


End file.
